Help Save CAMP HOWL

Hey y’all! My name is Cedar, and I’m the artist and creator of CAMP HOWL. CAMP HOWL is a small trans-owned LGBTQIA+ operation that consists of myself, my partner Delta, and our friends. We all love sharing art together throughout our communities.

I’m reaching out because we need your help to obtain stability while we heal from years of exposure to environmental toxins in our former home. With your support I’m excited to focus on creating new art for CAMP HOWL again. ❤️‍

TL;DR

For years Delta and I lived in a neglected rental that was slowly poisoning us. It caused lasting effects to our health and ability to create. Along with our dog Stitch, we have suffered severe illness leading to hospitalizations from environmental toxins and we are now displaced.

We need time to detox, heal, and rebuild our lives so we can continue to operate CAMP HOWL. It has been a struggle to come to terms with asking for help during what is already such a difficult time for many. However, we are at the point that without trusting in our peers and being vulnerable, CAMP HOWL will not be able to continue on for much longer.

The following contains the subjects below. Please review and be mindful going forward.

CW: CHRONIC ILLNESS, HOSPITALIZATION, MEDICAL TRAUMA, TRANSPHOBIA, HOMOPHOBIA, PREDATORY LANDLORD, LOSS OF HOME

Living Conditions

Early last year, my partner Delta and I discovered that our rental home was making us sick. The property had for a long time been neglected by the company we rented from. Despite getting tests and multiple attempts at remediation, they refused to address the issue beyond superficial fixes that overall worsened the condition of the home.

With few options as renters, we did our best to manage the problem ourselves, but without the landlord’s willingness to fix structural damage or remove contaminated materials, there was little we could do to resolve it.

Both Delta and I have conditions that weaken our immune systems, which made it easy to attribute our symptoms to said conditions. As a result, we spent years wracking up debt trying to seek relief through medical diagnosis. We continued trying to find answers, without realizing that our environment was keeping us in a constant state of immune distress. The nonstop exposure to environmental toxins triggered autoimmune flares, leaving each of us in unending cycles of illness.

As my symptoms worsened, it became harder for me to work. Drawing for extended periods or even spending time at my computer became increasingly difficult. The toxins caused chronic sinus inflammation, which worsened my astigmatism and severely impacted my eyesight. On top of that, I experienced persistent neurological eye issues—visual noise, flashes of light, and frequent ocular migraines. My joints, especially in my hands and hips, became inflamed, making drawing painful and exhausting.

Many of our customers have noticed the lack of new designs and products from us, and this is the reason why. We have no shortage of ideas but finishing anything became impossible. All of our half-developed concepts and planned collaborations with other artists sat on the backburner while we tried to address our health. Beyond the physical limitations, we also faced neurological barriers such as constant brain fog, memory issues, and migraines. The years of ongoing exposure-induced illness left us in a permanent state of burn out and fatigue between conventions.

Each time we would travel for a convention our bodies would begin the painful process of detoxing and every time we returned home the toxins would begin building again. For the first few year we attributed it to con crud, but as the pattern built so did the severity of our symptoms with each cycle.

Medical Crises and Forced Displacement

In December 2023, we traveled to the Chicago area for Midwest FurFest. On Thursday night after dinner I suddenly felt unwell and disoriented. My body overheated, and my vision distorted like a migraine was coming on. I stepped outside for air, but as soon as I made it out of the restaurant I lost consciousness and collapsed. The fall resulted in a fractured nose, a concussion, and a subsequent sinus infection.

I had never fainted before and had no idea what had caused it. A friend took me to the emergency room, but there was no apparent explanation for my sudden loss of consciousness.

Meanwhile, Delta was dealing with his own worsening health. He suffered from relentless, recurring infections, and despite years of medical treatment from multiple specialists, we struggled to find answers. The damage was severe. He lost several teeth due to jaw infections and endured back-to-back internal infections, leaving him in constant pain.

In 2024, after realizing our home was making us ill, we vended at more conventions than ever hoping that consistently traveling would provide some relief. While we did feel better the longer we were away, we always had to return eventually. Each time we returned home the symptoms would compound until our bodies could no longer keep up.

By August, the damage had caught up to us. During Furrydelphia, Delta had a medical emergency that resulted in an ambulance ride to the hospital. That Friday morning, I woke up in our hotel room to the sound of him vomiting. By the time I was fully awake, he had already been sick dozens of times and couldn’t stop or keep down fluids. After several more hours of unsuccessful attempts to calm his stomach, I called an ambulance.

Delta was admitted to the hospital, where tests later revealed that his kidneys were struggling to filter the overwhelming amount of toxins in his system. The years of exposure had taken a toll. Delta’s emergency hospitalization was a transphobic experience where multiple forms of pregnancy checks were performed beyond the normal tests before any treatment could occur. The doctor asked directly many times if Delta was hiding a pregnancy due to the amount of pain he was exhibiting, unaware that I was also trans and that that would be impossible. After over a day and a half without sleep we left with no answers other than the decision to vacate our house entirely while still having to see the lease to term.

At that point, we became fully displaced from our home. Despite spending most of the year on the road, every return to the house was enough to seriously impact our health. By the time we reached each convention, we lived with constant fear that one of us would experience another medical emergency.

Near-Fatal Tonsillectomy

I had long attributed my dysregulated nervous system to medical trauma. In 2022, I underwent a tonsillectomy due to recurring sinus and throat infections caused by what I now know to be the home’s toxins. My already large tonsils had swollen to the point of causing severe sleep apnea, leaving me with no choice but to have them removed.

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Due to the nature of my tonsillectomy and subsequent hospitalization, I have opted to put this part in a Google Doc. Please proceed with caution as the retelling of this event could possibly be upsetting to those who have experienced medical trauma through negligence, homophobia and/or transphobia.

Click here to read more .

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I had been assured by multiple medical professionals that removing my chronically infected tonsils would bring relief. While my sleep apnea improved, the inflammation in my sinuses persisted and worsened. After losing a near-fatal amount of blood and waiting days for a transfusion, I was left with iron-deficiency anemia and hypertension—further weakening my immune system and making me even more vulnerable to the toxins at home.

Stitch’s Health

Thankfully we were able to have Stitch stay with friends once we realized the house was a danger to us. It was hard being away from her but her safety came first. Over the years we'd lived in the toxins, her environmental allergies had worsened significantly. She developed recurring yeast infections between her toes, which required constant monitoring to keep her from licking them raw to the point of repeated vet visits.

She also began obsessively scratching at her eyes, and on a few occasions she developed ulcers that were slow to heal. Requiring surgery once and vet intervention another two times. Like us, she suffered from severe dental issues, eventually needing multiple infected teeth removed.

We took Stitch to the vet every month for allergy shots to help relieve her discomfort. I’m incredibly grateful we did—neither of us could bear the thought of her suffering more than she already was.

The Move-Out Process

While Delta and I had friends to stay with during the move-out process, returning to the house even briefly was physically damaging. After years of exposure, simply stepping inside made us sick almost immediately. Despite wearing respirators, we still experienced intense reactions from the lingering toxins. The severity of our symptoms upon re-entry was alarming. Every friend who helped inside the home also reported having reactions to the toxins even after wearing extensive PPE.

It took us months to fully empty and clean the house for the move-out inspection. Throughout the process, we endured relentless health issues—bloody noses, inflamed sinuses, heightened histamine reactions, extreme fatigue, eye strain, and more. It was, without question, one of the most physically and emotionally difficult experiences of our lives.

During this time everything we still owned was put into storage. Our business existed in its own unit but we could not afford to split between two facilities or rent more space at our original center. This meant emptying the house of our personal belongings, most of which we had to part with due the the nature of the move, and moving the business from its unit all overlapping. We gave the infrastructure that we could to peers or sold to friends. We're now safely out of the situation and with friends for a time while we try and regain our footing.

Why We Need Your Support

Being forced to leave our toxic home has left us transient and struggling to rebuild our lives. We now face a long road to recovery that includes:

• Medical Treatments: Covering the mounting expenses for ourselves and Stitch for treatments and past medical events.

• Acquiring Safe Housing: Securing a new, healthy living environment where we can rebuild our lives and shift focus back to our creative work.

• Start Creating Again: Ensuring that we can continue producing art and running CAMP HOWL.

Every dollar you donate will go directly toward our medical expenses, housing costs, producing art, and creating a safer space for us to live and work. Your support means the world to us—it will help ensure our health, our future, and the art we share with the community.

In the following days an update will be added with a breakdown of all costs.

Please Help Us Heal

We know times are tough, and we appreciate any help you can provide—whether it’s a donation, a share, or words of encouragement. Thank you for taking the time to read our story and for considering supporting us on this journey toward better lives.

With heartfelt gratitude,

Cedar, Delta & Stitch

CAMP HOWL